


Heavy Are The Heads

by ReinaWritesStuff



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jonerys Monthly Events, Jonerys Secret Santa, King Jon Snow, One Shot, Queen Daenerys, R Plus L Equals J, Survivor Guilt, Targaryen Incest, Targaryen Restoration, Westerosi Politics, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 14:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17163623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReinaWritesStuff/pseuds/ReinaWritesStuff
Summary: “Heavy is the head that wears the crown”Though the war is done, the struggle of the aftermath continues both externally and within. Jon and Dany deal with the weight of ruling over the devastated ruin left of Westeros.





	Heavy Are The Heads

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Doublehex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doublehex/gifts).



> Hi, friends! After months of some heavy real life things, I'm back to writing! 
> 
> This one is for my giftee, Doublehex, for Jonerys Secret Santa 2018 (I'm too-much-jonerys on Tumblr. Hello!). GRRM has said that he hates the idea of Good Guy rulers being instinctively and immediately successful rulers without any stumbles or shenanigans (i.e. LOTR's Aragorn and Arwen). I wanted to play around with that concept that these beloved heroes and capable leaders don't really have it all together all neat and tidy off the bat. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy my (quite moody) take on this, Doublehex! Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and all of the above to you!
> 
> More fics and updates coming up.

**“Long live the king! Long live the queen!”**

The crowds had cheered and clapped. Flowers were thrown as they paraded through the streets of what was left of King’s Landing. Tower bells tolled. All in celebration of their legendary new monarchs, whom had saved them and their entire realm from the threat of the dead. And the terror of Cersei’s reign. Songs would be written for them. Tales of their rise would be passed down for generations. Their names would be synonymous with glory for all of time.

The people celebrated Jon and Daenerys’ victory.

 _Victory_.

It was unsettling to say that they had won the wars. They had survived, yes, but the cost was too great to feel victorious. It was easy enough to wave to the crowds and smile as the shining royals they were. But, ruling. That was another beast. One harder and crueler than they could have even anticipated, especially after the wars.

What lands and people weren't destroyed by the dead were further gravely impacted in the war against Cersei. Most castles fortunate enough to be left standing were crumbling ghosts of their former majesty. Most families whom had ruled prosperously for centuries had dwindled down to five members or fewer. Some were wiped out all together. Once fertile lands were frozen to their roots, likely to never spring again.

They were the king and queen, but of what? Of the haunted lands struggling to be the Westeros of old. Lesser rulers would have taken their victory as it was, and let the rest of the realm sort out their restoration. But not them. So alike in their reigning, they found it nearly impossible to turn off their concerns for their people. For better or worse.

They would receive seemingly endless complaints, pleas, and questions from all corners of the land. And they listened to all of them. Equals in power and responsibility, they would take the notes of all requests; Jon would hear some, Dany would separately hear others, council members would record the rest. Every night, when they were alone in their bed chamber, they would combine and review the requests they’d heard, analyzing and attempting to find some sort of solution to each matter. Though they had their small councils, there were few others whose opinions and judgement they trusted more than each other's.

That night, their stacks of notes and letters were high, and they poured over them by the light of a fireplace and two candles. Both were dressed in their night clothes, but neither showed signs of sleeping any time soon.

“There’s the matter of the Vale,” Dany said as she shuffled through her notes. Jon shared her aggravation with the subject.

“Again?”

“Lord Royce is still quite convinced that Lord Arryn is unfit to hold the Vale.”

“And?”

“And he’s proposed that, as a former guardian of Lord Arryn, he be allowed to rule until the boy is of age. And maturity.”

“Do you agree with him?”

“I don't know that I  _disagree_  with him. House Arryn has rightful claim to the Vale as it always has. But, I do feel a bit of unease that the responsibility of replenishing the Knights of the Vale falls on a child with his temperament. Although I don't know that I trust Lord Royce’s petulant temperament much more.”

“Now, I was certain that you two would be friends by now,” Jon teased. Dany rolled her eyes at him.

“Cordial, at best. That is all that insufferable man is due from me.”

“Lord Royce should continue to closely supervise, but Lord Arryn will remain as the ruler of the Vale so far as he can manage.”

“Agreed.”

Jon looked down his pages, and groaned when he saw the next one.

“Oh, this was brought forth again. The Essosi payments.” Dany immediately clenched her jaw. Her finger tapped with immediate annoyance. “The lords have yielded on denying those who stayed in Westeros their due, same as they have for the Wildlings. But, they're arguing against payment given to those who left back to Essos. They want them to return what they were awarded in order to support Westeros’ funds.”

“I will not hear it again. They were and are our armies. They fought alongside the rest of us for Westeros. They're still at the ready should we need them here and have earned their better lives in Essos. Was I to send them back to live in gutters? They would’ve been owed more than they received, if we could have managed it. None of us would be here without them. And they asked for so little in return. Even less than Westerosi lords are asking for castle repairs alone. I will not hunt them down to reclaim their rewards.”

“I agree with you. But, this matter won't go away, unfortunately. That much we can be sure of. So long as we struggle with funds, the Essosi payments will be blamed.”

Dany shook her head. She had underestimated the amount of prejudice expressed towards her soldiers from Essos. Anything that could possibly be blamed on them, was. Even the population of those who remained in Westeros were still looked down upon, treated as if they didn’t belong. Othered. After all they’d been through, true unity among the people was a distant hope. And, to her sadness and fury, Dany could do little to remedy it.They moved onto the stack of notes recorded by the council. As Jon looked at the next letter, pained stoicism instantly washed over him.

“What’s wrong,” Dany asked.

He handed her the paper, and she solemnly bit her lip as she read it.

“Winterfell,” she whispered the words and looked up to Jon’s face.

The topic had come up before, though hushed. It was typically not brought to Jon directly. They suspected no one had the heart or the courage to address him with it. The North was the first to fall to the dead. As it stood, the lands were all but gone as were the majority of Northmen and Wildlings with them. Few, aside from survivors of the Night’s Watch, had so much as ventured north since then, and the kingdom was left as an unclaimed, hollow reminder of what had been lost. The matter of what to do with it was a sensitive issue, especially for Jon. He began to bitterly paraphrase the concerns on the page.

“Do we rebuild Winterfell and the North? If so, who… who should rule it? Do we simply leave it to a frozen waste? A lost cause.” The words choked him as he spoke them. He drew Dany’s attention to the second page. “Look. This one even suggests that we  _move_  the Wall to border the Riverlands. Cut the North out all together. It'll be as if it was never there. Deepwood Motte, Karhold, White Harbor… Winterfell. Lost to folktales and books, so far as they care.”

Jon walked away to pour himself a cup of the strongest drink he could find. He was typically good at maintaining his composure, even around Dany. But, the mention of the North would cut him deeply no matter how hard he tried to hide it. They were silent for a time, no doubt remembering what happened when they were in the North last.  

“I will travel north and assess the current damage” Dany spoke up. “If I see what can be salvaged, we can come to a more informed decision.”

“Only  _you_  travel north?”

“It may be best that I should be the one to go. Alone.”

“No. I need to see it, as well. There is nothing there that would shock me anymore.”

Dany could have argued back, and she wanted to. But, she knew it would be best to leave that choice to him, despite wanting to guard him from the hurt it would cause him. They didn’t speak on it any further. They instead mulled over some simpler requests. Siblings squabbling over land. Bastards of fallen houses seeking to gain legitimacy and claim. Eventually, Dany came to another more complicated issue. As she read it over, she furrowed her brows and was almost reluctant to bring it forth. But, she had no alternative.

“What else is there,” Jon asked.

“The Iron Bank debt,” she replied simply. It was a conversation that they’d had before, and she already knew how it would go.

“That’s an issue for another time,” Jon answered dismissively. He didn’t have to glance at Daenerys to know that she’d gone stone-faced as she stared ahead. “You disagree.”

“You  _know_  I disagree. This was an issue for another time the last time it came up. It would be an issue for another time the next time it comes up.”

“Because we currently have greater priorities than repayment. The Iron Bank is a matter we cannot sort yet.”

“Well, they’ve given reason to begin sorting it now.” That gained his attention. Dany sighed, frustrated over the development. “They’ve threatened to withhold any additional loans until we begin paying on our current debt. We will need their coin if we are to start any true reconstruction. Even if we wish to maintain funds for feeding the people, we need them. I do not want to concern myself with the needs of the Iron Bank any more than you do. But, if our priorities are our people then  _this_  is now a top priority. We need to address this, Jon.”

In the midst of all that was laid at their feet, they had somehow doubted how far the Bank was still willing to go to collect on its investments. Even in the aftermath of unprecedented devastation, there was coin to be collected. Jon groaned, tempted to pour another cup.

“We have Baratheon and Lannister debt to contend with. Debt from the Iron Bank’s support in the war to contend with. I would like to hear how and why they expect that we pay them promptly. Should we trade crops from frozen lands? Dead fish from frozen waters? What do they want us to do?” Jon noticed Dany’s pointed silence. “What is it?”

“They’ve also made mention of the debt owed from the Night’s Watch.”

“The Night’s–” Jon exclaimed, “The Night’s Watch hardly has the funds to support themselves, what’s left of them. They’re working on repairing the Wall in nearly-uninhabitable lands. What could they have to offer in payment?”

“They’re not asking the Night’s Watch to pay it.” With pursed lips, Dany read a portion of the letter from The Iron Bank to Jon.

“Should Your Grace, the 998th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, be willing to take on the brothers’ debt with that owed by the Crown, the Night’s Watch would no longer be responsible for repayment.” She skipped further ahead, needing to stay herself from growing ire. “This is the price we must all pay for winning a war.”

Both of them knew the truth of what was happening. Westeros was no longer seen as being as profitable to the Bank as it once was. They’d begun devoting their funds and efforts to now wealthier lands abroad. That meant that any reprieve offered to previous kings and queens would not be extended to them. The Bank’s loyalty went only where they could gain a return on their investments, and that was not in Westeros. They would sooner abandon them to waste than continue sending loans. Let the populations starve and die and put the blame on the monarchy’s failure to repay.

“The price we pay for winning,” Jon repeated, irate. His usual calm was broken and gone in that moment. “The Iron Bank knows nothing of the price we've paid! None of their gold dragons amount to the price we've paid. No funds they lost can amount to our losses. We are left here to piece fragments of a country back together with nothing. We don't have enough kindling for the amount of funeral pyres we need built. All that we had is gone! They don't understand that! We  _are_  paying for our victory! We’re paying severely, and I am  _tired_!

He sat back down. Everything he'd kept inside boiled over. His words hung in the silent air. He’d never expressed those sentiments aloud to Dany, and even taken aback them. For the first time, she realized that his anger wasn't only about the Iron Bank. She pushed the papers aside and moved closer to him.

“I'm tired, Dany,” he spoke in a quieter, honest tone.

His fire was replaced with pain, and they stared into each other’s eyes. Eyes that reflected the same fear and uncertainty. The same feelings of being lost. Doomed to fail before they even started. They took the throne and immediately went to work on repairing their country. No time to plan. No time to mourn. No guide to show them the way. And no way to have fully understood the pressures they were thrown under.

Jon lowered his head, letting out a deep, defeated sigh. As she always had, Dany leaned into him, their heads touching, and closed her eyes. She stroked his cheek, lightly caressing it with her fingertips. They sat that way in silence for a moment, taking in the brief sense of calm it brought them. She comforted him not as the king but simply as her husband.

“I still see them,” Jon whispered. Dany pulled back and looked upon his face, sadly. “Everyone. Every death. They're all as clear before me as you are now. I can't close my eyes to sleep without seeing them. Hearing them. They… they call out to me for help, and I can’t do anything. Nothing but reach out and just miss them. Watch them die all over again.”

Jon had lost count of how many nights he'd gone without rest. He would lie silently on his side, feigning sleep. But his mind would wander to dark places. Dark memories. He would be unable to move or speak. Only stared off into the darkness until his body grew weary enough for slumber. And he would make no mention of it to Dany when they woke up. But, unbeknownst to him, she also spent her nights in a sleepless daze.

“I see them, too. I brought people, loyal people, from Essos. They were only here for me, and I led them to their deaths. I see all of them. There will always be a part of me that will never forgive myself for it. It would be a lie if I said that I did not sometimes question everything now. If I didn’t ask myself if it was worth it. Worth all of the death and the horror that still plague my mind” She spoke words that she would never tell anyone aside from Jon. “At times, it almost feels as if it would've been easier if…”

“If we’d died,” Jon completed. She looked away. “I don't know that it would've been easier. When I… there’s nothing there. Nothing after death. No glory or peace or loved ones waiting for you. You’re just gone. Death wouldn’t have been easier.”

“Then all we have is this life,” she replied with resignation.

Jon gazed into the flames in the fireplace, smoothing his hand softly on Dany’s knee. Everything fell on them to get right. Everything depended on them having the correct answers, whether they knew said answers or not. The future of Westeros relied on them, and Jon couldn’t help but envision what their life would be without their crowns and titles.

“I once dreamed of walking away from it all with you. Running away from it, even,” he admitted as if he was almost ashamed to have entertained it. “No ruling. No councils or debts owed. Just us. Away from  _this_.”

“I've dreamed of that before, as well,” Dany quietly confessed. And it was a nice dream. Maybe the memories couldn’t follow them. Maybe the calm and tranquility they so desperately, if only secretly, longed for lied in lands far away from Westeros.

“Every time I had that thought, though, I remembered something. We couldn't even walk away from this if we wanted to. We wouldn't know how,” Jon finally responded. He slid a lock of Dany’s hair behind her ear. “We don't know how to turn our backs on our people. Even if it seems as if it’s all for nothing. Our place is only meant to be here.”

It was true. After what they’d been through and seen, they did not have the luxury of believing that a life away from the throne would truly bring them any more peace. It wouldn't let them forget their loved ones or their experiences. They knew that, no matter what, their fates were as intertwined with the rebirth of the realm as they were with each other. Every hardship they’d endured in their lives, every painful lesson they’d learned and were still learning, had brought them to where they were in that moment. Even broken as they were, no two people in the realm were better-suited to bring Westeros back from the dead than they were together. No two others had their strength. Nor their heart. As such, there was no option for them but to face it.

“We can't change who died and who survived. We can't control all that was lost,” Dany added. She pointed to the stacks of papers filled with all of the pivotal decisions they would have to make. “This is all that we can control. This is the only way that our survival can make anything right. To make certain that no one was lost in vain. We likely won’t live long enough to see the kingdoms’ reconstruction to completion. But, we can leave behind a beginning. That’s what we survived for.”

He nodded in agreement. Dany placed her hand atop of his, running her thumb over it. Jon lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. And they smiled at each other in a way that their dire situation couldn't manage to take from them. Unanswered notes still sprawled out over the table. The debt was no closer to being paid. The North was no more settled than before. And they would have many more issues to tackle for the remainder of their lives. But, through all the loss, they were no more grateful for anything than they were for the fact that they still had each other.

They didn’t have the answers nor did they know when they would. Neither was even certain if the decisions they had already made would come back to haunt them later. They didn’t know what would really come of their efforts. They could only go forward, in spite of their grief, doubt and fear, together.

**Author's Note:**

> Side Note: Word on the street is that there a troll spreading non-constructive negativity around Jonerys fics lately. If you've got some tomfoolery to say, just save it, dude. It's Christmas, you ass.


End file.
